March Madness is a cultural phenomenon. It is synonymous with the college basketball national championship tournament. It features the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.
March Madness resonates with buzzer beaters, upsets, Cinderella stories, crazy fans, crying towels, and cutting down the net celebrations. The range of emotions runs the gamut from tears to cheers, chills to thrills, bumps to jumps, glares to prayers.
For me, March Madness epitomizes my life in a nutshell. It highlights the guiding principles in my life learned from the #1 Textbook and our family values.
By God’s design, I grew up in a coach’s family world where sports was a profession and way of life supported by our faith in God. My dad, my brother, and my son are Hall of Fame coaches.
Every year of my life has been defined by the lows, the highs, the sudden end of the season, followed by a time of reflection and gratitude for the joy of the journey.Then it is time to begin again. One mantra echoed through every season from start to finish to repeat.
Character matters. Always do your best. Have fun. Never quit.
I encourage you to consider these principles for life whatever describes and defines your life’s journey.
ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST
That is all about your EFFORT. You cannot control your opponent, the referee calls, the bad bounces of the ball, injuries, or all the circumstances. You do control your effort. Always do your best!
2. HAVE FUN.
That is all about your ATTITUDE. Enjoy life in both the good and tough times. No one else controls your attitude. We tend to let the actions of others or unwanted circumstances affect how we feel and react. The attitude of joy and gratitude is God-given for you to access in all situations and around all people.
Whatever happens in your life, in the end you will wish you had gone through it with more joy.So, start enjoying life more today.
3. NEVER QUIT. NEVER!
The determination to never quit involves emotional TOUGHNESS which manifests itself by loving endurance, perseverance, and hope.
Sports is just one of the learning schools for life. Winning championships is hard. Both the preparation and the journey necessitate toughness. It is not for the faint-hearted or for quitters.
Sports competition is hard and challenging. It is much more than just winning and applause.
Life is hard. Marriage is hard. Parenting is hard. The easy way out is to quit or change circumstances or replace teammates.
We hope that lessons learned in athletic endeavors help young men and women in life not to quit being a faithful and supportive spouse. Not to quit being a loving and exemplary mom or dad. Not to quit at work. Not to quit using your platform of influence to help others.
Whether the words are echoed by Winston Churchill or cancer patient Coach Jim Valvano or a preacher quoting the Bible. “Finish the race. Never quit. Never, never, never quit!”
One does not have to be a sports enthusiast to share these same sentiments. From handymen to teachers to medical professionals to first responders to whatever marks your love and lifestyle, these principles can apply.
I believe they are wisdom gems for those facing a medical crisis, relationship issues, or any challenge in life.
Ball player, billionaire, or bum. Always do your best. Have fun. Never quit!
“Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God”(#1 Textbook).
Love God and love others. Love first and love most!
I do not know what challenge in life you are currently or soon to be facing.
I pray you might embrace it as your one shining moment where you give all you have to give with all the joy you can share for as long as it takes.
No one except God might know how hard it was or how long you persevered. But inside you will know and feel the thrill of knowing you always did your best, you had a good attitude, and you never quit.
One Shining Moment is the iconic song associated with the televised NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship. The CBS March Madness theme song sends chills up and down the spines of aspiring, retiring, and wanna-be basketball stars who dream of giving everything they have on the competitive court.
The ball is tipped and there you are you’re running for your life you’re a shooting star And all the years no one knows just how hard you worked but now it shows…
But time is short and the road is long in the blinking of an eye ah that moment’s gone And when it’s done win or lose you always did your best cuz inside you knew…
I showed up at church looking like an albino werewolf. I frightened the children and amused their parents. What happened? I was the finished product of another Great Stuff handyman fiasco.
Did I read the directions first? No!
I admire and appreciate men and women who can fix things. Their skill, ingenuity, patience, and perseverance fascinate me. However, I am most definitely not a handyman. Although that hope remains high on my wife’s prayer requests, my fix-it competence never improves. I try. I fail. I get frustrated. I reluctantly try again, just with a worse attitude.
Handymen find my ineptness to be entertaining. Any thirty-minute easy assembly ends up as a several hours project with some part missing or broken. If it is possible to repair something to work worse than it did or construct something backwards, then I am the guy to call.
I once assembled a swing-set in the freezing temperature of a Christmas Eve, only to get to the final piece and discover that last piece was intended to go in first. So, I had to disassemble the entire undertaking and redo what I had done wrong.
Redo what I did wrong. I wear it like a badge. I plead with my wife to place on my tombstone, “He meant well.” She always reminds me that women know they should first read the instructions; men do not; at least her man does not.
Much like the children’s book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, we all have really bad days. I admit handyman failures do not really qualify for the “bad day” top ten. However, they frustrate me to ever-increasing levels of high anxiety. I understand how ridiculous that sounds to any real handyman and to every woman.
My one shining moment was planned to be sealing the ventilation leaks in our aging windows. My handyman friend told me it was a simple fix, something even I could do. Why do real handymen say that?
He told me to go to Lowe’s and get some Great Stuff. It comes in a bright, shiny, red can whose contents form a durable, airtight, and water-resistant bond which eliminates unwanted airflow. It literally can seal anything.
Great Stuff. I can testify to its effectiveness against gaps and cracks, but it does not “fix” everything. There is nothing that can fix “stupid.”
I used the special award-winning Quick Stop straw dispenser to generously spray the insulating foam sealant around each window. If a little does good, then a lot does better. Every handyman needs his own philosophy.
Well, a gentle tap on the spray trigger and the contents rushed out like Niagara Falls at flood stage. I quickly rubbed it in to tighten the seal.
Wait! Stop! I did not know Great Stuff expands once it is placed on the surface!
Without warning, my windows and bricks were covered in an avalanche of this volcanic flowing cream-colored foam, like a scene out of The Blob movie. The ever-growing, oozing substance devoured and dissolved everything in its path. Suddenly, I was aghast with visions of Great Stuff foam covering my house, yard, and neighborhood. When would it stop?
I panicked. I had to clean up the mess before anyone else might see my latest handyman blunder.
I could identify with my granddaughter that time she reluctantly confided to her mother that she and her sister sneaked into the pantry and ate the Nutella, “I was praying you would not find out and that God would just forgive me.”
Flustered and frightened, I began the cover-up. “Oh, God, help me, before anyone sees this.” I hurriedly wiped it off with my hand. It would not come off my hand, so I rubbed the growing gunk with my other hand. As I pried them apart, the crazy goo covered both hands.
I scrambled for the paper towels, Bounty, the quicker picker upper. I stubbornly stuck to my tried and true, handyman philosophy. When in doubt, use more.
The Great Stuff stuck to my hands and my hands stuck to the paper towels. I admit beingimpressed with the quicker picker-upper attribute which performed as advertised. However, the entire roll became stuck somewhere. My hands. The windows. The bricks. The patio. The grass. There was a paper towel stuck to the dog.
Now what? Water! Rinse it all off with water. I rushed to the backyard faucet to wash away all my problems with lots of water. I never switch philosophies in the middle of a project. More water! That did not work! White gunk stuck to my water hose as the situation worsened.
As a toddler, I had a backseat view of my dad’s concern over the sudden appearance of a police car in the rearview mirror. Dad simply muttered, “Uh oh,” which caused my mother to fear the possibility of a speeding ticket or jailtime.
As I watched the speeding pursuit car with its flashing lights quickly close the distance between the vehicles, I yelled an update on the situation, “Uh Oh, worser, dad!” As Dad pulled over to the side of the interstate, he replied, “Yep, uh-oh worser!” That reaction developed into a classic family saying regarding many future problems.
My Great Stuff episode had reached “Uh Oh, worser” status.
I had anticipated something really bad, but I underestimated.
As the excessive residual solidified, I racked my brain for plausible explanations to my wife of how this happened. A cement truck backed into our house. The Blob escaped the Arctic. The evening news warned of a new dangerous strain of albino mold.
I picked up the bright red can and looked at the instructions, just so I could give an affirmative answer to my wife’s first question, “Did you read the directions?”
The directions clearly stated, “This product expands quickly. Start with a small amount. Keep off hands and face.” (I am 0 for threeat this point in the game).
“Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright. The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light. And somewhere angels are laughing as heavenly handymen shout. But there is no joy in Mudville—Mighty Casey has struck out.” (Apologies to Thayer.)
I continued to read the directions. “Do not use water” (0 for four). “Let product dry before attempting removal” (0 for five).
“If the foam has hardened, there is no solvent that will remove it. It will eventually wear off in time.”
There is no solvent to remove this sticky gunk from my hands or the house or the dog!
However, it will eventually wear off.That was good news if I lived that long.
WARNING to wanna-be handymen everywhere:
*Great Stuff expands terrifyingly and sticks tenaciously to anything, especially skin.
*It does not come off your hands with water because it works as a sealant to repel water.
*It is also an adhesive which glues paper towels to hands.
*Oh, yes, the directions clearly warn that this product is highly flammable.I should be grateful that my attempt to melt off the Great Stuff was unsuccessful due to the ignition failure of the charcoal match lighter (0 for six).
How do you explain to 911 that you blew up your house with Great Stuff? Uh-Oh, worser!
At church the next morning, friends expressed concern over the condition of my hands. Yep, tiny pieces of paper towels remained attached to my sticky fingers. Some kids scrambled to report seeing a werewolf. Adults backed away in fear of contact with leprosy.
Whether spoken with laughter or pity, they all asked if I read the directions before I started the project. What is this world’s obsession with directions? Really?
Directions can be extremely important in this life. Some directions are for guidance to help us navigate toward our destinations, while some directions are instructional information, providing supervision of action or conduct.
Our Creator God provided us a relevant and reliable Textbook filled with both navigational directions and instructional messages. The indispensable, helpful manual sufficiently lights the way for our daily steps toward meaningful purpose and lasting happiness. Likewise, it provides true and trustworthy instructions for us, coaching us how to love God and others for maximum joy in life.
However, most people go through life without reading the instructions. Relationships get messed up. Self-help solutions fail to stop the damage. Something ends up broken or missing. So, everyone tries to hide their messed-up problems from everyone else suffering from the same messed-up problems. How? The other comparison shoppers just post better social media pictures.
What about you? Are you trying to hide a problem? Fix a relationship? Give a false impression? Have things spiraled out of control?
“Did you read the directions?” Did you read the directions? I do not intend that as some accusation or condemnation. I ask because I think it would help any of us to step back from where we struggle in some relationships and think.Am I really following the directions?
God’s divine directions clearly instruct us to walk side by side with God for our greatest good. They also warn if we go through life following our own instincts, the problems will expand exponentially in difficulty and duration.
The Creator’s Great Stuff directions were never intended to be a set of rules or a list of do’s and don’ts. Instead, they describe a relationship of lordship and love which is guaranteed to stop the happiness leaks in our lives.
God authored a Relationship book, an all-time best seller and proven game-changer. Every direction is based on love, with detailed descriptions of how to love God and others as well as how not to do it.
There are even directions for corrections when we did what we were not supposed to do.
From the beginning to the end of Genesis, the first historical book, God demonstrated the glory of His goodness. He proved He can give good to us out of nothing (creation) and orchestrate good for us out of wrong intentions and actions of bad people (story of Joseph).
God promises never to stop loving us…never to forsake us…never to give up on us. He creates and controls everything, even chaos and darkness, for our good so we can have lasting happiness.
“I showed you a new way to live with lasting joy: Love each other. Love others in the same way and just as much as I love you….Love more and more” (#1 Textbook).
How does God love us?
(1) GOD LOVES FIRST.“I loved you before the foundation of this world” (#1 Textbook). I think that loving us before we were created qualifies as first.
(2) GOD LOVES MOST.“It will take unending ages for me to show you the immeasurable goodness of my kindness to you” (#1 Textbook). The promise of immeasurable riches of goodness throughout an infinite eternity confirms that loving most belongs to God alone.
God loves us Before time and Beyond time.
God calls us to love others in the same manner. “We love because He first loved us” (#1 Textbook).
LOVE FIRST. Do not wait for a response from the other person. Initiate love. Establish the tone of the relationship.
LOVE MOST.Loving others should never be limited to a finite number of actions or time. Love shows and grows in countless expressions of ever-increasing kindness. “Because of His everlasting love and kindness to you, practice that same kind of tenderhearted mercy and kindness to others” (#1 Textbook).
Somewhere along life’s journey, we decide that the problem is with the other person. That happens when we try to love without reading the directions. We cannot fix the other person. That just ends up in a bigger mess than paper towels stuck to your fingers.
We need HOPE. I am not a handyman, but I have read the Great Stuff directions. It specializes in HOPE. I have enough HOPE to share with others.
Sometimes, we make a mess of things, even when trying to fix them. Our natural instinct is to hand the directions to the other person and insist they read them. Please stop! No one else can do what I/you need to do, Love First and Love Most.
The Great Stuff directions encourage me to show God’s immeasurable, unending self-giving love to others. Love does not place blame on others and does not hide behind excuses. Love takes the initiative; it closes gaps and repairs cracks in even the most damaged relationships. “Above all, love others deeply” (#1 Textbook).
God’s Great Stuff Playbook can stop marriage leaks and fix broken relationships. It has repaired many ‘Uh, Oh, worser’ situations. Whatever circumstance you are in, God’s instructions will make it better.
Just take a moment to step back and get a divine perspective on your relationships.
Whatever you choose to do with your life, follow the directions in the #1 Textbook. Live for something that lasts forever.
Death is certain. The percentages are perfect. It is one common experience we will all share. Death is not funny, but a little humor can ease some of the upcoming grief.
As a college student in Boston, I became fascinated with the engravings on old tombstones. As I walked the historic Freedom Trail, I passed many old cemeteries from the early stages of American history.
King’s Chapel Burying Grounds is the oldest cemetery in Boston (1630). Near the Boston Common is a post-Revolutionary War cemetery for Paul Revere, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and family members of Benjamin Franklin.
The stone markers. The obitual commentary. The shorthand summaries. One could imagine life stories connected to the last laughs.
Ma loved Pa. Pa loved women. Ma caught Pa with another gal swimmin’. Here lies Pa.
I told you I was sick. (Adjacent tombstone) And I was sick of hearing it.
I would rather be reading this.
Here lies my wife. Please let her lie. She’s now in peace and so am I.
We will never know “Why” this chicken did not make it across the road.
I made some bad deals, but I went in the hole with this one.
My wife finally stopped talking so I feel like I am in heaven.
Some thought she was sweet, some thought she was swell, but we all know she went straight to “H-E-Double hockey sticks.” (I think this was a cat.)
Now I know something you don’t.
Here lies the remains of Jonathan Peas under the sod, but he ain’t here, only the pod. Peas shelled out and went home to God.
A very popular testimony reads as follows: As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, so you shall be. Prepare yourself to follow me. (Read that again.)
On one of those tombstones, another phrase was etched into the rock: To follow you is not my intent, until I find out which way you went.
Appropriate humor can ease the stress and anxiety of certain death. But do not let the jokes distract you from the value of examining how you live your life. In fact, the #1 Textbook plainly and emphatically states that it is better to go to a funeral than to a party (Ecclesiastes 7:2).
Why? Hopefully, it will cause you to think about how you intend to live the rest of your earthly life.
Have you ever taken time to consider how your eternal existence can be eternal enjoyment?
God’s Word encourages us to contemplate our impending earthly demise and consider our days in order to make the most of our time. The #1 Textbook also points us to the endless eternity beyond so that we live now in faith, hope, and love.
The unknown part of death is one of the hardest concepts to grasp. We fear uncertainty.
Is that time something to be feared? Something to hope? Will it be gain for you? Or will it be loss?
Is death a bitter loss or sweet gain? There is a thin line between sweetness and bitterness. In cooking, it could be the amount of sugar.
In spiritual things, the difference is hope. In a multitude of unanswered questions seasoned with blame and bitterness, you can still hope in God. When hope gets fully mixed into the recipe, you cannot see it; you just taste it.
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is sweet gain (Philippians 1:21).
Our hope is not wishful thinking or positive confession or some mystical religious concept. Our hope is a Person. His name is Jesus. Hope in Jesus shapes how we live and how we die.
Grief has an expiration date; so do trials. They remain for a little while, if necessary. Even a lifetime of suffering in this world is only “alittle while” compared to the everlasting joy of heaven.
God promises you an eternal inheritance with everlasting blessings full of all God’s riches. Your inheritance is imperishable; it will never be used up. It is undefiled; it can never be messed up. It is unfading; it will never lose its value.
Mark Twain was blunt. “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
As one philosopher stated, it is not the date of birth or the date of death that matters most. It is what you do with the dash in between representative of the entirety of an earthly life. That dash has eternal implications.
ALL OF LIFE IS A STEWARDSHIP.
Enjoy life but live it for God. Rehearse dying. Yep, that is right.
Charles Haddon Spurgeon said this: “No man would find it difficult to die that died every day. He would have practiced it so often that he would only have to die but once more. Like the singer who has been through his rehearsals and is now perfect in His part and has but to pour forth the notes once for all and he is done.”
The “why” and the “dash” have everything to do with your stewardship and your legacy.
What will summarize your dash? What will be your tombstone testimony or memorial memory?
In life, we do not know exactly where the finish line is. We might get to a point where we know it could be in a few days, but most of the time it sneaks up on us.
All of us know we are going to die, but none of us expect it to come when it does. It usually comes too soon in our timetable of life expectancy. So the issue becomes how to finish strong with an ecstatic burst when you do not know the location or time of the finish line.
Finishing strong never just happens; it is empowered with wholehearted purpose.
What is your purpose for finishing strong? Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for Jesus’ appearing(2 Timothy 4:8).
There is a crown of righteousness for all who are faithful to Christ and hope to see Him as their coming King.
What is that crown of righteousness? Theological scholars offer several ideas. For me, biblical righteousness is the “life and love of Christ” placed inside of me by the grace of God. My practice of that life and love of Christ is still flawed here on earth because of the remaining seeds of self-love which continue to dwell within me and war for the control of my soul.
HOWEVER, THE VICTOR’S CROWN WILL BE THE “PERFECTION OF THE LIFE AND LOVE OF CHRIST IN ME” WHICH WILL BE FULLY DISPLAYED THROUGHOUT THE REST OF ETERNITY.
What joy for me and what joy for others who will then be loved by me! I will love them without any selfish tendencies, without any selfish motives, without any selfish expectations. I will love God and love others perfectly, just as Jesus loves me!
That is the championship reward for which we entrust ourselves to the God who causes all things to work together for our good. That is the joy for which we agonize and suffer now.
This championship crown is for all who are in love with the Jesus who appeared on this earth to save them and who will appear again to take them home with Him forever.
Fight THE Fight! Finish THE Race! Keep THE Faith! Finish strong with an ecstatic burst into heaven!
John Donne wrote what should be the testimony of every Christian who is rehearsing the day of his death. Study this:
“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For those whom thou thinkest thou dost overthrow, they die not. One short sleep passed, and we wake eternally and death shall be no more.”
No more death.
I love what was written about Enoch in the #1 Textbook. He walked with God.
My parents lived a very impactful life as a Hall of Fame coach and a highly accomplished educator wife. Both started from humble beginnings.
Dad was one of four brothers raised by a single, uneducated mom. They were abandoned by an alcoholic father. They fled his abuse in the middle of the night carrying all their belongings in pillow sacks. Their new home was in an abandoned chicken coup.
Mom grew up in humble surroundings as part of six siblings with uneducated parents. She was proud to be a coal miner’s daughter.
Both parents received many awards and professional acclaim. They positively impacted the lives of thousands of students and co-workers. Much could be written as their tombstone testimonies.
However, they chose their own epitaph. The tombstone plaque simply reads, “Gerald and Beatrice Blankenship, parents of Rex, Bill, Joe.”
That is their tombstone testimony. Their pride. Their joy. Their love.Their legacy.
What a blessing! What a humbling challenge!
To be loved unconditionally and endlessly is a tremendous blessing. It is also a stewardship responsibility to make sure that investment is not wasted.
You and I are loved by the God of Glory, Eternal Creator, Living Lord, Heavenly Father, Loving Savior, Supreme Majesty, and Sovereign King of kings.
We are loved first and foremost, loved most and forever. We are loved before and above everything else with a love that is independent, infinite, and immeasurable in its greatness.
We are loved with undeserved, unchanging, and unending goodness by the One who is Glorious in all he is, Perfect in all his ways, Faithful in all he does. Always wise, right, and good. Always with us and always for us.
And yet, He has no tombstone. He just writes his legacy in the heavens.
God of Rex, Bill, Joe, and you.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever (Psalm 23:6).
Dear family and friends, do not worry about me when that time comes in my life.
I will be cutting down the nets!
As the hymnwriter penned,
The love of God is greater far Than tongue or pen can ever tell; It goes beyond the highest star, And reaches to the lowest hell;
Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above Would drain the ocean dry; Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though stretched from sky to sky.
Sometimes we fail to pay attention to where we are and become blind to what life is truly about. When God questions us, we fail the test.
My patience is basically like a gift card, not sure how much is left on it, but we can give it a try.
That was the t-shirt logo in the ad I saw last week. I immediately copied and texted to those closest to me.
Screenshot
Friends started a GoFundMe account on my behalf dedicated to the purchase of the t-shirt.
Patience is waiting with a smile. At least that is the version I teach my grandkids.
Patience! Patience is definitely one of my daily recycled tests.
I was tested and failed again yesterday.
I have committed myself to pursue the most important goal of loving God and loving others first and most. I understand the process is more about direction than perfection.
But, what the jeepers? Why does it seem that everyone signed up to be God’s instruments of teaching me patience?
I have begun to anticipate the two cars slowing down my travel lane are both going to turn into the fast-food lunch drive-thru intended as my destination.
I am no longer surprised that they will stare at the menu and not be able to figure out what to order. That will be followed by a change in the order and then a long deliberation and discussion over drink preferences.
I actually expect the customers in front of me at the pharmacy counter to have major problems with their prescription. I am no longer surprised or frustrated. I even bet the over-under on fifteen minutes of wait time. Take the over!
I began yesterday with a smile about the t-shirt with the dwindling gift card total on patience.
A few hours later, my card was drained dry. Nothing. Nada. Nil. Nilch. Less than nothing.
The moment did not look like a test. The assignment was straightforward. I was in the self-checkout line at the grocery store. My goal was to purchase the sale items marked on my wife’s grocery list.
Special sale: Ten selected items for a total of ten dollars: 10 for $10. I double checked that I had the correct items picked from the store’s special display shelf.
As the item costs appeared on the screen, I did not see the discount. I asked the attendant if the correct price should be on the screen for each item or would it show up on the total. She suggested I wait.
That did not work. The total did not show the sales price. I kindly asked for assistance.
This customer service lady is someone’s favorite person who makes their world go ‘round. She was very methodical, a strictly by the book rule-keeper who would never make a mistake. Neither time nor adaptation to special circumstances would alter her process. Our family has a name for that kind of person, borrowed from a real pleasant man of similar characteristics.
There is nothing wrong with rule-keeping or methodical actions. However, they can be extremely frustrating to someone in a hurry willing to consider out-of-the-box shortcuts…and vice versa.
For example, my precious wife and our sister-in-law will sit in Section 301, Row ZZ, Seats 142 and 143 of a football stadium because that is the location assigned to their tickets.The top row remains choice seating for those interested in parachuting out of the stadium.
They are undeterred and unmoved by the fact that the 30,000-capacity stadium has twelve hundred in attendance. They remain unfazed that the weather is 21 degrees with a windchill of 4. It means nothing to them that we could watch the game without binoculars from one of the lower empty rows or that the lower sections are blocked from the strong north wind.
What might happen if the people with those tickets show up in the fourth quarter? Or worse, what if the security guard checks our tickets and tells us to move? I did not share their fear of being escorted out of the stadium by armed guards, but, then again, my ticket blew away when I used it to scratch my frozen face.
Not wrong, just different.
I strongly suspected this customer supervisor held a ticket to Seat 144.
So, the number one thing I noticed was she had no intention of listening to any suggestion from me.
Number two observation: Other customers were growing irritated while waiting for her assistance.
Number three: She was quickly overwhelmed by the situation, which is not a good characteristic of a customer service salesperson.
I had a frustrated, perfectionist seeking to figure out how to correct my ten items for ten dollars instead of the $14.68 total on the checkout screen.
How would you correct that situation? Right. I bet it was not how she failed to solve it.
First, she emptied the sacks and counted each item. Yep, there were ten items.
Then she checked each item with the sales ad to confirm they were indeed listed in the ten for ten sections. What about the two pasta choices? Are they on the list? Are they the correct brand? “Yes, ma’am” and “Yes, ma’am.”
There are four cans of soup. Are they all the same brand and size? Is it really necessary to lift and examine each one with the same label and identical size as the other three?
Miss Don’t Miss a Beat noted that the two cans of tuna were different from the soup cans. That is correct, Sherlock Holmes. Check the sales ad. They passed as did the final two packets of salad toppings.
Her solution was to delete each item from the list one by one. Type in her permit number…for each item. Scan the item. Hit delete…for each item. Type in authorization again…for each item. Proceed to next item.
“Ma’am, do you think you could just subtract $10 from $14.68 and refund me the difference, which is $4.68.”
“No. That is not the correct way to do this.”
“How about deleting the entire sale and then just charge me ten dollars for all the items?”
“Sir, I must delete each item individually. Then I will reenter each item.”
How much is left on that “Patience” gift-card?
I waited for her to complete the deletion of each item. Then I watched her scan each of the ten items.
She appeared perplexed that her scan produced the same total of $14.68. I was not surprised. However, I looked at her in disbelief when she guessed the sale items were no longer on sale.
I asked, “Do you mean these items that you checked to make sure they matched your sales ad?”
She replied, “Why don’t you sack them up and take them over to the customer service window? Maybe they can help you.But first, I must delete each item again.”
I looked at the lengthy line of carts waiting at the manager’s window. I glanced at the frustrated customers awaiting my departure from the self-checkout area as they stared and whispered to one another.
Did they think I was just stupid…or poor?
My eyes did a quick search of the nearby gift card display. I did not see a Patience card.It did not matter. I could not afford one.
Apparently, I cannot afford all these items unless they are on sale. Maybe, I should negotiate how many items I could get for ten dollars. Someday, I hope to be able to pay full pricefor a can of soup.
I looked back at this dear lady handing me two plastic sacks. She pointed to the manager’s office window and wished me a good day.
Really?I bit my lip. Blood began oozing out of my mutant monster mouth. I began to loudly wail like a crazy lunatic…a very poor one in tattered clothes.The screams echoed throughout the store in my mind. PATIENCE IS WAITING WITH A SMILE.
The lady assistant grabbed my hand and asked if I was alright. I guess I blacked out for a moment. She handed me a ticket to Seat 145and pointed me to the back of the line.
What was I really thinking at that moment? I just wanted to get out of the store and stop at the nearby Sonic Drive-In for a cherry Dr. Pepper. If I hurried, I could get there for a Happy-Hours half-off soda.
At this point, I wanted to pay $14.68 and lie to my wife.
Patience is an admired and respected virtue, until it needs to be practiced in our own lives.
I have realized this truth during my life journey. The gift card balance on my Patience often runs low and even out.
However, there is a separate gift card that came from heaven which has no limits. Yes, patience is a gift card from God. Whenever I choose to use it, patience waits with a smile.
No matter how long. No matter how many times.
I need to remember not to leave home without it.
God keeps recycling my tests. The spiritual tests in life are always recycled.
Love is patient. Patience means much more than just passively waiting. In fact, the #1 Textbook describes it as an aggressive activity of inner strength, often associated with running the race of life (Colossians 1:11; Hebrews 12:1).
Patience is also linked to the active words of perseverance and hope.
Perseverance is made up of two words, “Severe” refers to hard times. The “per” signifies “through” the severe times. Steadfastness under pressure. Endurance in trials and tests.
Hope is not wishful thinking, but rather a confident expectation of seeing all the goodness God has promised…somehow…someway…sometime.
God has promised to gift-card us with unlimited patience, perseverance, and hope (Romans 15:5). Why?
Patience, perseverance, and hope all deal with character development. God has promised to make me and you more like Jesus. He always loves first and loves most.
So, here is where the rubber hits the road, not with Goodyear tires, but in our lives.
Every stop light on the road of life is for character building in my life.
Every slow or misguided person on the road is for character building in my life.
Every incompetent or inconvenient customer service representative was sent into my life for character building.
I fail to see it that way too often as the balance on my Patience gift card quickly evaporates.
Thank you, Lord, for the $4.68 of character building. You knew I needed every penny of it.
One can survive ignorance in art or sports or economics. However, spiritual ignorance will never produce a happy life. It helps if you know and understand the questions on the test.
Here is the lesson from the #1 Textbook (Romans 5:1-5). The tests will surely follow.
Because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us…we confidently and joyfully look forward to actually becoming all that God has had in mind for us to be.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us—they help us learn to be patient.
And patience develops strength of character in us and helps us trust God more each time we use it until finally our hope and faith are strong and steady.
Then, when that happens, we are able to hold our heads high no matter what happens and know that all is well, for we know how dearly God loves us, and we feel His love everywhere within us because God has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.
Jesus lives in us to lead us to others He intends to love with patience, perseverance, and hope through us.
Get ready for the today’s test. Remind yourself, it is all about character building.
Rejoice at the red lights and ridiculous people who slow you down long enough to see the good God is doing in your life.
To all the Bored and the Beautiful, Early Edition:
This is my tribute to Presidents’ Day and all the men ever created who could have been President except for a vital missing link.
George Washington lost his teeth and his love for cherry trees.
Abraham Lincoln lost elections early in life and later lost his love for the arts.
Adam lost a rib and his home in Paradise.
God took a rib from Adam to create a beautiful companion who rocked his private world with love and conversation.
Is that why most men love ribs so much?
When men think about ribs, it usually pertains to food style preference. The main four BBQ kings are Kansas City, Texas, Carolina, and Memphis.
Each region features its own unique combination of seasonings, sauces, types of meat, and signature dishes.
Dry-rubbed. Smoked. Sauces. Primary popular sauces start with a tomato, vinegar, mustard, or mayonnaise base mixed with some secret blend of ingredients.
Different kinds of pits and fire sources of charcoal and flavored wood provide the necessary long, slow heat. Baby-back, Pork, and Beef make up the rib choices. Add the Chicken and Sausages. Brisket and Burnt ends!
Mouthwatering delicious.
But what really happened to Adam’s rib?
Why did man lose a rib and part of himself as originally created?
I might not be able to safely say, but I think I can correctly say, theologically speaking, it was because of a woman.
Theologically speaking.
That sounds impressive. Theo-logy is the study of God, His Name, Nature, and Ways. The only source is God’s Word which is God’s self-revelation. Hearing, reading, understanding, and obeying God’s Word is the only way to know God.
God first revealed Himself to us as the Creator of all things (Genesis 1).
On the sixth day of creation, God created the first man from the dust of the ground and made him a living-being created in the image of God (Genesis 2:7).
God literally breathed life into the man and gave him a soul. The body design inside and out is amazing and still being studied for its magnificent and intricate workings (Psalm 139).
God taught the first man everything. Everything was perfect, but not complete. Then God caused Adam to realize there was no created being like him. He was alone, without a companion. Paradise enjoyment necessitated a companion to share the joy and love.
The perfect man needed a helper (Genesis 2:18).
What happened next? Comedian Rodney Dangerfield says he got the story straight from Adam’s account.
After God created Adam, Adam came to God and said, “You created all the animals and each one has a mate, but I’m alone. Can you create me one also?”
God replied, “Well Adam, I can create a mate for you. It will be the crown of my creation, someone who will serve you, and your every need and desire. The most beautiful and loving creature. She will take care of you always. She will give you all the respect that you deserve.”
“The only thing is, it will cost you an arm and a leg.”
Adam thought for a second and said, “What do you get for a rib?”
No wonder Dangerfield made a career saying, “I just never get any respect!”
What really happened when God provided Adam a companion?
GOD ALREADY HAD A PLAN BEFORE MAN REALIZED HE HAD A PROBLEM.
THAT IS A LESSON FOR ALL OF US TO LEARN WELL.
God already has a plan to turn your problems into greater good. Always. Even the problems you face now and the ones you will face in your tomorrows.
Do not worry or fear. Trust God.
For this writing, the focus is more on HOW God created the woman, not the WHY (Genesis 2:21-22).
God caused Adam to fall into a deep sleep. God operated on the man and took out a rib which God used to form a woman. Now, God could have made the woman out of dirt or dung, but she was always designed to be better than that. God could have made her out of stardust or moonlight, but she was designed to look good in nature’s light.
God created woman out of a man’s rib so she would remember she is a significant companion made from the same source and substance (Genesis 2:23).
When Adam initially saw Eve, he said those famous words, ’Wow! You complete me!”
I imagine Eve’s first words were, “Do you love me?”
Adam responded, “Of course, Babe. I said, Wow!”
Adam continued, “There is no one else in this world but you.” God told him to stop talking.
It was then that Eve understood she needed to do the talking for both, which led to her second saying, “You had me at Hello.”
Then she followed up with, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
(All of that is written between the lines of Genesis 2:23-25.)
The #1 Textbook is filled with important truths recorded from those unwritten words first spoken by God to Adam and Eve.
*Imitate God and walk in love just as God loved us (Ephesians 5:1-2).
*Love God and love others (Mark 12:30).
*Love First and Love Most (Ephesians 1:3-4 & in between the lines of every verse from Genesis to Revelation).
God gave man a worthy companion to help him learn and practice those love lines.
It was not too long before Eve questioned why Adam could not read between the lines the way she could. Adam used his lost rib as an excuse.
Don’t it always seem to go That you don’t know what you’ve got Till it’s gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot –(Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi)
Since that creative moment in Paradise, the missing male rib has become more noted for dilemma than delicious.
Man started to mess up. Missteps, mistakes, and misgivings are now part of every man’s makeup.
What happened?
Is the lost rib the missing link to all major male deficiencies? Is the same rib the cause of increased frustration levels in all women, especially married women?
Men can drive a woman mad, even when she is the backseat driver with Siri as her non-stop ally. We need an answer for man’s mess-ups which drive women to plead temporary insanity as the excuse for their emotional responses.
I wish to confirm what medicine has suspected for generations.
There is a reason for a guy’s shortcomings. One does not have to read between the lines to understand the faux pas attached to a man and woman who “paved Paradise and put up a parking lot.”
Faux pas–an embarrassing or tactless act or remark in a social setting.
Man is a walking, talking faux pas to his assigned companion.
This is not about Love Languages or Women are from Venus and Men are from Bars.
Marriage therapists counsel with unproven theories. Astrophysicists search the universe for conclusive answers. Pharmaceuticals treat the symptoms without addressing the cause.
Comedians make us laugh about it. Mothers-in-law make us angry about it. Social media does more harm and causes greater chaos.
Here is the final answer in one simple, yet profound, statement.
The cause of a man’s faux pas and many frustrating shortcomings is THE MISSING RIB.
Who knew that one rib was so important? God did. And God made woman.
When God took the rib from Adam and gave life to woman, all subsequent males were created in similar fashion.
In medical terms, men and women have the same number of ribs, twenty-four ribs separated into twelve pairs. They can be easily counted although kids and women seem to be more ticklish.
Rib bones can regenerate and mend themselves. They can even be used for bone grafts in other parts of the body.
However, in practical terms, the divine surgical operation appears to have resulted in man’s permanent loss of other mental and emotional functions.
There is a consequence for a missing rib which shows up in varied degrees of each male. Man lost more than just one rib.
When God took way the rib:
Man lost the ability to read minds. Women now possess exclusivity in that area.
Man lost the possibility to have a good reason for his actions. When a woman asks a man, “Why?” she already knows there is no reason.
Man lost any capacity to engage in a meaningful conversation. That should not be a shock to any woman.
Man lost the capability to communicate, listen. and remember. That is why God doubly blessed the opposite sex.
Man lost the skill to drive without needing directions spoken in a woman’s voice. Women have always dominated communication skills. Siri is a Norwegian word meaning “a beautiful woman who leads you to victory.” The American dialect is more closely affiliated with “Are you kidding me, sir? You are an Idiot!”
Man lost the potential to think for himself or make any wise independent decisions. One does not have to read between the lines for affirmation.
Man lost the ability to alter his tone of voice before it comes out of his mouth the first time. If he could only think before talking, but, alas, that too went away with the rib.
And we wonder why the McRib never lasts on the fast food menu.
That makes me wonder. Was Eve the first McWoman?
Obviously, the lost rib does not prevent man from thoughts of wonder and sarcasm! I offer myself as proof.
What about the missing rib?
Do you think God might have slow smoked the rib overnight before creating Eve? Adam thought she was lip-smacking good.
For the record, man never had heartburn until after marriage. To be fair, the woman never had a headache until she shared the spare rib.
Adam never had to hear about all the other guys Eve could have married and she never had to hear about his mother’s cooking. They never had problems with meddling in-laws or books on how to raise children.
I also wonder about when Eve got jealous. Did she count Adam’s ribs while he was asleep?
And just for the record, a dry rub does not work on a woman.
I think that is why she prefers the salad. One rib was too much.
Except for missing a rib and millions of votes, I might have been President.
Thankfully, God made someone extremely beautiful, wise, and loving with my missing rib.
Now, if someone would just explain to her how to lower her expectations!
I love seeing pictures of my grandchildren dressed for their first day of school. I love hearing about their school projects, sports, and funny moments.
However, I do not remember a lot about my time in grade school. I must have been in a School Daze!
What are the thingsyou remember most from elementary school?
I fell in love on my first day of school, sort of. It was the first day of first grade. I saw this cute little girl crying out in the school hall with a teacher trying to console her. My heart went out to her.
That night I was interrogated by my parents, both school educators. When Mom asked if I made any new friends, I mentioned the teary-eyed little girl. Mom asked if I knew her name. “Yes, Joan. She is going to be my girlfriend.”
Dad asked if I thought she was pretty. I replied, “Yes.” The questions continued until Dad asked about the color of her eyes. I shrugged, “I never saw her eyes. She was crying all the time.”
Dad told me I could not have any girlfriend without knowing the color of her eyes.
So, I went through Miss Solomon’s first grade class without any girlfriends. That trend continued throughout my elementary years.
In fifth grade, I was disciplined for disrupting class because I was making Donna laugh. Miss Sharp’s “punishment” was to sit the students in the hall and wait for Principal Noblet to talk to them. Unfortunately, my mother passed by before the administrator. That did not go well.
She took a double-take glance followed by the Michael Jackson moonwalk back to where I was. Then came the pointed finger in my face. I think she actually said she hoped I had a broken leg because that was the only acceptable reason for being on the floor in the school hall during class time. During the next two weeks, I missed more time playing with my friends than if I had broken my leg.
Little Rascals
Sixth grade was an emotional roller coaster. My parents and I wanted me to be in Mrs. Nance’s class. She was a very nice and accomplished teacher.
My mother, a high school and college English teacher, wrestled with another idea. Mom always pushed education more than sports. Mom pushed more weight through school than any Olympic lifter. The great Pusher never stopped even though Dad became a Hall of Fame coach and her sons all preferred sports.
Mom decided my education would benefit from the very strict and rigid classroom instruction of Miss Peck, the prototype for the most feared and hated elementary teacher ever portrayed in film or literature. No kid wanted to be in her class, but half of us would be assigned to the torture chamber. I mean, she was already a legend before I ever met her.
That is correct. She was a legend, not in the sense of a celestial icon, or fabled falsehood, or infamous myth. She was more like the feared Wicked Witch of the Westor the contemptible Cruella de Vil. There was a schoolyard whisper rumor she had changed her name from Lizzie Borden, the Fall River axe-murderer.
Sometimes, her class would not go to lunch in the cafeteria. They were not on a class trip with a picnic basket; they were sitting at their desks in piles of classwork. Every grade school kid knew that her class would regularly be absent from recess time. Throughout the earlier grammar school years on the playground, we could see Miss Peck’s students still imprisoned in their classroom.
What was the most common saying heard on the playground during those elementary days? It was not what one would suspect from little kids during recess…”This is fun” or “Let’s play ball” or even “I need to go to the restroom.” Throughout the schoolgrounds, one collective moan drowned out all the laughter…”I never want to be in Miss Peck’s class. That would be torture.”
Why would my mother subject me to this regimen? Learning is supposed to be fun, right? Apparently, it is also designed to be hard, boring, and void of enjoyment. Preparation for life.
Miss Peck was noted for her extensive lessons, heavy homework, and beautifully classic cursive handwriting. Mom called my handwriting some form of scribbling. She wanted me to learn the elegant flowing cursive script.
My wife has beautiful cursive writing. My handwriting preference is to print unconnected block letters. My sentences are barely legible. I think I am still protesting sixth grade.
Mom convinced Dad I would benefit from the challengeof imprisonment in Miss Peck’s classroom.
My biggest emotional baggage from sixth grade came from the recess periods. Our class was never allowed outside while the other kids were frolicking on the playground equipment and throwing a football around in the schoolyard.
However, Sally and I were granted recess period for our completion of the assignments while the rest of the class remained inside. It was also while all the other students were inside. Miss Peck’s actions would now be called Cruel and Unusual Punishment.
Sally was a very cute blonde. She was smart and very competitive both scholastically and athletically. I tried to discern her eye color, but we just never connected in the heart department. I probably talked to her more than any other girl I have ever known before I was married.
We spent hours and hours on the playground…alone. We were in a schoolyard wasteland. It felt more like a penitentiary. Well, I was never in a prison yard, but it could not have been more restrictive than what we experienced with the warden, Miss Peck, watching out her window, monitoring every step.
I was a sixth-grade boy sitting for agonizingly long hours on the swing set with a girl who did not like me.
The killer part was seeing my friends watch me on the playground. Todd stared out the huge windows as if he had lost his best friend and favorite dog. Gary would make finger gestures and stick his tongue out at me. Charles always had his head buried on his desk.
Miss Peck showed her humanity during the sixth-grade sports challenge against Mrs. Nance’s class. Our team had one student on base but was behind by one run in the last inning of the softball game. That is when Miss Peck whispered in my ear. It must have sounded like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. She made an offer I could not refuse.
Miss Peck offered me an “A” in art in exchange for a game-winning home run. What a deal! Do you think this is how Michaelangelo got the prestigious assignment to paint the ceiling of the Sisteen Chapel?
For one brief shining moment, my mental camera caught the image of Miss Peck doing her best preview of a Taylor Swift celebration at the Kansas City Chiefs football game.
After the victory, Miss Peck made me promise two things: (1) secrecy about the deal based on something she called “ethics” (the statute of limitations has run out on that confidentiality agreement) and (2) a promise I would never go into any profession connected to “the arts.” Roden and Raphael benefitted from my absence.
Elementary school. I witnessed the televised accounts of the first American astronaut, Alan Shepherd. I listened to the radio reports of the dramatic seventh game walk-off home run by Pittsburg Pirates’ Bill Mazeroski to win the World Series against the highly favored New York Yankees. I watched the black and white televised Billy Graham Evangelistic Crusades and the John Kennedy-Richard Nixon presidential debate.
Mostly, I was a good kid throughout grade school. I occasionally terrorized my younger brother, Bill, as Todd and I guided him through the brutal challenges of astronaut training. I was only seeking to prepare him for greater things in life.
My late life reflections leave me wrestling with the question of why I went to grade school. Recess was never long enough. My class lecture attention span matched that of a fruit fly. Social contact with the opposite sex was mostly limited to games of Red Rover.
As one person wrote, each class had a cool kid, a nerd with glasses, a non-stop talker, a silent shy type, a pretty girl, some mean girls, a loud-mouthed rebel, and a drama queen. The personalities of Grumpy and the other Seven Dwarfs also made daily appearances. That was just the teachers!
Did grade school teach me necessary disciplines for life? Or instill in me the love of learning? Did I develop social skills or a life of avoiding eye contact? Did I ever realize that the music teacher had me playing the triangle so I could not sing in the choir? Did Sally become a psychiatrist because of her sixth-grade playground experiences?
How did I turn out? That is still to be determined, but my mom marveled that I could simultaneously do homework, eat a snack, watch TV, talk on the phone, and play with my brothers. Apparently, grade school taught me how to multi-task.
Oh, the good old School Daze! I am more grateful for teachers than ever before. God bless the ones who invested their lives into the hope of the future.
I do remember this about my early School Daze, meeting Jesus, my Savior and Friend. When I mess up, He cleans up. When I am confused, He is my guide. When I am down and out, He is the Hope on my Horizon.
In anxiety, Jesus is my peace. When sorrowful, He is my Comforter. When weak, Jesus is my strength. I could list hundreds of things Jesus is for me.
For this School Daze memory session, this I know, Jesus is my greatest Teacher.
This I know, Jesus loves me.
This I know, the most important thing in life and eternity is to love God and love others.
This I know, Jesus lives inside of me to lead me to others He intends to love through me.
This I know, but still learning how to love first and love most.
My prayer for you is shared from the inside cover of the Bible my parents gave to me as I went far away to college.
“Whatever course of study you pursue, we pray this will always be your #1 Textbook.”
That is good counsel for all first-grade students and to those who, like me, are in the last classes of life.
It was a cool Saturday morning that I now recall as the Days of Wine and Roses.
Just a passing breeze filled with memories
Of the golden smile that introduced me to
The days of wine and roses… and you
—Days of Wine and Roses (Academy Award Oscar winning Song of the Year, music by Henry Mancini, lyrics by Johnny Mercer, sung by Andy Williams)
I had just purchased a bouquet of a dozen red roses for my wife. It was not a special occasion like Valentine’s Day, just a romantic gesture from a husband needing a lot of grace for his most recent mishap. (Yep, another one.)
As I walked to the parking lot, a man carrying a large bottle of wine came running in my direction. Another man was chasing him while screaming, “Stop that man!”
I was temporarily frozen as I tried to take in the scene invading my space. We live in a time where it is best not to get involved in others’ disputes. However, there is some gallantry to helping someone in desperate need.My deliberation was quickly decided for me. This was unavoidable.
The chasing man continued to yell, “Stop him. He stole my wine.” As the fleeing man with the wine bottle rushed closer in my direction, he glanced back at the wild man in pursuit. Suddenly, he veered off course and slammed into me.
The collision temporarily halted him. He appeared stunned and afraid. There was no doubt he was trying to escape the angry screaming man. As he rerouted his flight around me, I reached out with one arm and grabbed him.
The wine toting man screamed for me to let him go. As he pushed my arm away, the second man crashed into both of us, crushing the roses. I was definitely involved and very upset at both of them.They invaded my safe zone.
While I surveyed the damage to the flowers, the chaser knocked the first man to the ground in an attempt to wrestle the wine bottle back into his possession. As he stood up to race away with the wine, he was tackled by the first man.
The competing shouts were confusing.
“Give me my wine.”
“No! You stole it. You are a thief.”
“No! You stole it from me.”
“You cannot shoplift.”
“I paid for that wine.”
“You are a thief and a liar.”
The rest of the argument was filled with prolific profanities competing in both volume and vulgarity.
In the wild melee, three roses fell from my bouquet to adorn the two wine wrestlerson the ground of the parking lot. A small crowd of inquisitive onlookers gathered to gawk.
I stood there not knowing what to do. This was not really a fight, more like a sorority scuffle. The flailing fists hit nothing but air. The only damage produced by the leg kicks was the disturbance of the air flow in the parking lot.
Separating the two men struggling for control of the same wine bottle had not crossed my mind at that point. My first concern was for the welfare of the remaining roses. The flowers got the worst of the escalating situation. They had more damage than the two guys rolling around in the parking lot clutching the same bottle of wine.
My second thought wondered if this might be how the Wars of the Roses started in England. (Note for those who are as disinterested in English history as I once was: The Wars of Roses involved two families in a civil war for control of England’s throne in the late 1400’s.
The hometown Lancasters wore red rose badges, and the Yorks dressed in the visitors’ colors with their white rose badges. The red team was led by Henry VI and the advisors he could trust whenever he took a timeout for insanity.
However, the York family had different plans for the control of England’s destiny. The ambitious Richard, the great-grandson of King Edward III, rode the white horse for the York clan.
France got involved because of a woman. Mother Margaret’s ambitions were riding on her infant son, Edward, as her choice for future king.
The result was a horrific, manipulative, scheming, treasonous, bloody, thirty-year battle for the throne of England. Heavy taxation, arranged marriages, corruption (of course), deception, spies, turncoats, meanness, madness, imprisonment in the Tower of London, and beheadings marked the more civil part of the war.
They also fought over stolen wine bottles.
The almost unbelievable chain of events which ended the Wars of the Roses took a page from the legendary Hatfield-McCoy family feud and Shakespeare’s account of the rival families of Romeo and Juliet. Two youngsters from the dueling banjo players of Lancaster and York decided to marry.
Their House of Tudor union began a new royal dynasty. The Tudor team flag ushered in the English Reformation as a religious break from Catholic control, the golden age of English literature (Shakespeare and friends), and the famous reign of Queen Elizabeth I.
The House of Tudor social media marketing strategists superimposed a red rose on a white one for the team colors. Brilliant!
I don’t know whether to say, “Voila!” or “By Jove!” or “Heaven’s to Betsy!” or “What in the Sam Hill?” but I highly recommend a binge watching of the TV miniseries, The White Queen and its sequel, The White Princess.)
Sorry, I digressed from the squabble over the wine bottle, still playing out on the big screen of the store’s parking lot. It was also deserving of some binge-watching television.
My biggest scare came when a large pickup truck turned down the parking lane. The guy was very annoyed at me for blocking his path. He did what any angry redneck would do. He laid on his horn and shouted some curse words for me to move.
That only intensified the chaos as both liberal millennials and conservative senior citizens began to scream at him and bang on his truck. It felt as though we were at a political rally.
I stepped aside so the driver of the truck could see that there were bigger roadblocks ahead. Fast and Furious described the men rolling around in his path, not his truck stalled in its tracks.Blazing Saddles did not generate more chaos.
I guess the loud horn sounds alerted the store security.The armed officer did what our pleas and pulls could not do. He separated the fighting men and stood them upright.
That moment redefined the entire situation.
Apparently, the man running toward me with the bottle of wine was the store manager. He had chased down a homeless man who earlier shoplifted the bottle of wine. The manager was running back into the store for safety but was halted by his run-in with me.The homeless man in angry pursuit claimed he had bought the wine.
The vulgarities continued. Eventually, the accused man agreed to leave the premises to avoid a charge of theft.The store manager sarcastically directed my gaze to his name tag. Was it really necessary for him to point?
I was questioned by security about my interference in the process which caused the store manager to end up with some scratches and bruises. Somehow, I worked into the conversation that my flowers suffered more damage than either of the men in the powderpuff pileup.
Lessons learned. Try not to get involved in other people’s affairs and do not use sarcasm around police officers.
As I drove away from the store, I saw the homeless man sitting under a tree smoking a cigarette. I stopped and asked if he were okay. My mind said not to get involved, but my heart was thinking about what Jesus would do.
I inquired if the man wanted something to eat. He replied that he was just thirsty and asked if I would get him something to drink. I instinctively said, “Surely.”
(That is correct. I replied, “Surely.” I know that sounds a little weird, but my use of “surely” honors the remembrance of my English teaching mom who preferred the adverb as the formal response. The adjective version “sure” is more of an informal casual expression similar to what might be acceptable common lingo down in the hood.
Both “sure” and “surely” are considered as correct. However, Mom said if we ever met the Queen of England, we should respond with “surely.”
Well, that bucket-list item is not going to happen. So, I addressed the homeless man as if he were English royalty. Maybe, he was one of the Rose clans. I think he thought I was just uneducated.)
I asked the man with the parched throat if he preferred coffee, tea, or coke. His eyes brightened when I mentioned ‘coke.’ I could read the disappointment on his face as he realized that I surely was not offering the sure thing he was thinking about.
Instead, he answered, “I really need some wine, like the kind that Jesus made out of water.”Then the begging man continued his plea, “Afterall, Jesus was a friend of sinners like me.”
This wine-loving man acted as if he were better acquainted with the Bible and Jesus than I was. Suddenly, my mind raced with the thought this guy might be an angel in disguise.
You have to admit that a homeless wino smoking a cigarette would be a good disguise for an angel! No one would suspect there to be a halo, wings, and harp under those clothes.
Water into wine? Nice try.I will take the bait.Let’s get some water, pray, and see what happens.
Oh, ye of little faith! I am talking about me, not the wino.
New dilemma. I was pretty surehe would surely not listen to my reasons for him to forego the wine. I usually give some money with the understanding that it will probably not go for food.
Since I was no longer a Baptist pastor by trade and not really bothered by the righteous opinions of others, I offered to take him into the store.
My #1 Textbook version says that Jesus was a friend of sinners whose baggage included drunkenness, theft, cursing, and immorality.
Inside the store, I felt a little guilty. Not so much over the wine purchase, but over the price! The homeless man picked out an expensive bottle of wine. I asked him if he thought he could get by with something a little less costly.
He mumbled, “Sure.” I did not think it was an appropriate time for an English lesson. He picked up a different bottle which appeared very similar to the one involved in the wrestling match with the store manager. He mumbled again, “Is this one alright?”
I said, “Sure.” I just thought that was how a friend of sinners might say it.
On the way out of the store, I waved a receipt in the direction of the still angry store manager. Even then, I was not sure I was free from a potential shoplifter shakedown.
It probably did not help the tense situation when I used two fingers to point to my eyes and then back to the manager’s name tag, the old “I’m watching you” gesture.
This was definitely a new approach by me.I am not suggesting you follow my example. There are better ways to help the down and out.
However, I will say that if you had the misfortune to be a homeless wino, I would be the one guy you would hope to meet. I think the word is out on the streets. Every time I drive by a person in that condition, he waves for me to stop.
Days of Wine and Roses was the title of a movie about two souls in love who lost their way in an ocean of booze. One never recovered.
I offered the homeless man some food and housing assistance. More importantly, I pointed him to help and hope beyond the wine bottle.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only beloved Son that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life (John 3:16).
I wanted to teach the man about love first and love most. I caught myself second guessing how that might look in his life. He would have to offer me the first sip of wine and then give me most of the bottle. I thought that might be too much information for one session.
I pray and hope he will find the Friend who never abandons us. But for the grace of God, I would be sitting beside the road with a bottle of wine instead of walking into a warm house with some slightly crushed roses for a beautiful bride.
The bouquet was missingthe three smashed rosebuds in the parking lot and the one rose I left with the homeless manto celebrate our Days of Wine and Roses.
Those were the days my friend; we thought they’d never end.
I am looking forward with hope to those good days that will never end.
Those were the days, my friend We thought they’d never end We’d sing and dance forever and a day We’d live the life we choose We’d fight and never lose Those were the days, oh yes, those were the days La la la la…
Those were the Days–(Welsh singer Mary Hopkin, first artist signed by the Beatles Apple Record label. This song was produced by Paul McCartney)
Have you ever been rolling along feeling pretty good about life when suddenly the wheels fell off?
I talked to a new friend who was having his best professional year. That was late summer last year. In September, he had eye surgery which required a three-week recovery. An injury during his first week back at work necessitated knee replacement and another several weeks of physical therapy.
He contracted Covid before Thanksgiving with some complications. Just before Christmas, he ran a late-night errand to set out the stinky trash forgotten by his vacationing son who lived nearby.
He got out of bed dressed in his Pj bottoms, a light jacket, and flipflops for his short trip of mercy. On the way, his car hit a deer, sending the vehicle tumbling down an incline. He waited in the wintry cold for a police and wrecker. The Pjs and flipflops were a nice touch which led to a sobriety check. The car was totaled but he was not seriously injured. The real hurt came later when he was informed his auto insurance had been canceled while he was in the hospital.
Post-Christmas, he had a bad case of flu that sent him back into the hospital. On the last day of the year, a nurse delivered his wife’s newly filed divorce papers. Somewhere, the wheels fell off.
Can you identify with the feeling of the shock?
I had a different experience. It was the day the wheels fell off….literally.
As I turned the corner in my car, I marveled at the strange sight of a large tire rolling past my sideview mirror and into the road lane ahead of me. I think I was in shock when Rafe, my passenger, mused that he thought the wandering wheel was from our vehicle.
I can honestly say that the only time I had witnessed something similar was when a high school friend and I changed the flat tire on the band director’s car. That was my first experience at tightening the lug nuts on a wheel. We watched the back tire wildly wobble as the car pulled away. It was the first time I saw a wheel fall off while the car was in motion. It seemed funny at the time.
I guess our band director did not think it was very hilarious. As I was introduced at the next school football pep rally, he had the band play Taps instead of the school fight song.
When the wheels fell off this time, it was very embarrassing. Rafe came to visit me in Tulsa. He is one of my preacher sons. We planned to grab something to eat and then see a Tulsa University football practice.
He marveled at how well my 2000 GMC Yukon had been holding up. The SUV had been a generous gift from the Shreveport church I pastored for twenty-three years. The vehicle was a Godsend. It made many family trips to Tulsa and Florida through the years.
The Yukon was also a beautiful reminder of God’s resurrection power. It just kept going and going, just like the Energizer bunny. Snow, wind, ice, beach sand, storms, and blistering heat never stopped it from reaching its destination. It has even been stolen twice and crashed twice, only to find its way back home.
It is now a twenty-four-year-old model that can still outrun some of the fancy speed cars racing down the turnpike. Not that I have ever proven that to an arrogant young man who flipped me off.
The odometer currently records just a little over 418,000 miles. That is right. 418k. The thieves left it in poor outward condition. Front glass cracked. Bumper dented. Both front door handles hang loose. The interior is faded and torn. The exterior paint is showing its age. The Michelin tires are worth more than the car.
It looks and feels a lot like its owner. Because of insurance, I am worth more dead than alive. I hope my faith will hold up as well as the Yukon.
During Rafe’s visit, there was a strange grinding sound coming from the left front tire. I had taken the SUV to the auto shop for an inspection the previous day. The mechanic said it looked as if a bearing needed to be replaced.
I drove Rafe to see the new Riverwalk Park. The grinding sound caused me to pull over into the parking lot. I decided to continue the trip to the University campus to get there in time for practice before I called for a wrecker to tow the car to the garage.
As we made the last right turn in front of the campus, there was a strange sound, then a thump. Rafe and I watched as the front left tire slowly rolled past us.
The wheel had come off…literally.
Rafe remarked as if he were the WKRP news reporter, Les Nessman, describing the infamously ill-fated turkey drop from the helicopter onto the Pinedale shopping center parking lot. “Oh, the humanity.” Instead of the Les line, “The turkeys are crashing onto the ground like bags of wet cement,” Rafe reported, “I think that is your tire rolling down the street.”
I sighed. “Yep, I believe it is.”
Rafe continued to gaze in astonishment at the wheel on its breakaway roll into freedom. “I have never seen anything like that before.”
The rolling tire made its way down Eleventh Street before ending its journey on an adjacent sidewalk. The SUV was now down on its left front scraping along the road. Sparks flying. Spectators gaping with open mouths. Fingers pointing.
I drove the car into the parking lot of a closed sandwich shop. I retrieved the wheel and then went to visit the players at practice. I left Rafe in the car, laughing and hiding his face from the embarrassment.
“Till the wheels fell off” is an idiomatic expression. I certainly get the “idiot” part. The phrase generally refers to some difficult problem that ends up with disastrous results.
My free-wheeling tire would qualify as a difficult problem with disastrous results.
The metaphor. “Keep going til the wheels fall off,” can be used in a positive manner to describe persistence and relentless determination until the action can no longer be done. A never-quit attitude.
The phrase. “He should have quit before the wheels fell off,” can also be used as a negative expression regarding someone’s stubborn unwillingness to stop what he is doing even when faced with disastrous consequences, often sudden failure.
Again, in this true story, the idiom and the idiot have both been appropriately identified.
Have you ever had one of those days where the wheels just fell off?
I am sure you have…or will have one in the future. What can you do?
Life is life…for each one of us.
We all love the mountaintop times. The highlight moments and celebratory gold stars are welcomed visitors. We smile. We sing. We dance. We live as if those moments will never end. In reality, they are few and far between.
We are better acquainted with the low moments, even if they are scarce. Grief. Loneliness. Defeat. Loss. Suffering. Financial crisis. Personal disappointments. Private pain. Those days do not last forever; they just feel as if they do.
Most of life is spent coasting down the road. We hope to run into a high note or discover a hidden oasis. We fear the hard bumps in the road. We never expect the wheels to really fall off. When they do, then what?
When the wheels fall off, God is there. When the trial is beyond what you can handle, God is there. When the darkness hides all hope, God is there. Even when you have made a mess of your life by foolish decisions or indecision, God is still there.
God specializes in giving help and hope to those who lost their wheels and wrecked their lives.
Consider one of the most messed up lives in all the historical encounters with Jesus. At his worst moment, the world just called the misery man, “Legion.” (You can find his story in Mark 5:1-20.)
He was a man well-acquainted with the drama and conflict of a messed-up life. In fact, in the soap opera world, he would be a mega star.
His wheels fell off. The result is more important than the reason. Legion lost everything that mattered in life. He destroyed his family, shipwrecked his career, and blew up his friendships. His good name became the stuff of demons.
The slippery slope story became a nightmare. He was a physical monster, an emotional wreck, and a social outcast. The plot development was saturated with drama inside and outside.
Frightened people practiced social distancing from his personal pandemic. He was Sleepless in Graveyards and Hopeless in Seattle or any other place on the planet.
Legion’s life was stranger than fiction. The stories about him were a bigtime ratings-grabber. He was a mean, mad man, like a scary monster in the movies, only the tales were real.
The consensus opinion saw him as beyond all hope.
Jesus brought His disciples to love this scary man who was no longer loved or loving. That encounter transformed Legion’s heart, soul, and mind.
God’s love gives hope to soap opera lives. Many lonely people go through life like Legion dwelling in the graveyards of greed, gripes, and grumbling. Their wheels fall off. They are among the Walking Dead who fight with family members, wrestle with addictions, and star in social struggles.
They feel desperately alone, alienated, afraid, and ashamed. They hurt and hate. Self-destructive bitterness and self-inflicted misery know them well.
Legion was the poster child of a soap opera world without God, without help, without hope. He was driven by the unrest that was in his soul, running in never-ending circles of nothing but misery. Socially alienated, spiritually unfit, culturally unacceptable.
It was humanly impossible to love him. He was the most hated soap opera victim/villain of all time.
Jesus searched for the miserable, messed-up man. Jesus loved him first and most. That was the teaching point for the first disciples and anyone else following Jesus. There is no one beyond the help and hope of love.
Do you feel as if you are the most messed-up hopeless person on the planet? The Lord knows how to get you rolling again.
Legion is one example of so many hopeless causes transformed by someone’s action to love first and love most. Transformed by love, Legion went home packing the most important thing in life, loving God and loving others.
You can, too.
When the wheels fall off, and they will at some point in life, the internal spiritual condition of your heart will most affect your response. You will either sit on the side of life’s road and quit for a while, or you will cry for help from above.
Legion ran for the cover of deadness and darkness. Chicken Little reacted with the ominous, but mistaken, warning, “The sky is falling.”
Winnie the Pooh’s friend, Eeyore, did not want to get his hopes up, so he would never be let down. Instead, the depressed donkey shut down from anxiety and fell into a pity party.
Perhaps, you have chosen to reside at Eeyore’s Gloomy Place. “Could be worse. Not sure how, but it could be…End of the road. Nothing to do and no hope of things getting better…I will stay here and be miserable.”
Look up! You are not as bad off as Legion, Chicken Little, or Eeyore, Even if you are, Jesus proved there is a happy ending in store for you as well.
Read God’s Word. It introduces you to God and then reminds you of who He is when your wheels of life fall off.
God’s Word leads to faith, the full assurance and strong conviction that God is still in control and God is always good.
Faith in God always leads to Hope—the confident expectation that you will still see all the goodness God has promised…somehow…someway…sometime.
What can you do?
Live in your hopes, not your fears. No one is hopeless. Our failures do not define us. Our problems do not disqualify us. Our drama does not frighten away the restorative love of God.
Faith in God is the spare tire when the wheel falls off. Life’s journey is not over; it is about to get better.
WE ARE ALL ROUGH DRAFTS OF THE FINISHED STORY.
THANKFULLY, GOD ALWAYS WRITES THE LAST CHAPTER. It will always be more glorious and filled with greater goodness than you can even imagine.
Do you live with or around someone who acts and appears to be beyond all hope? Jesus has a word of faith and hope for you and them.
WHEN YOU GIVE LOVE, YOU GIVE HOPE!
Decide to love first and love most. Develop a plan of how that would look in the relationship. You do not need to take a ten-year or even a ten-week psychological or theological course before you can go home or go to work for the purpose of loving somebody else.
In any circumstance and in any relationship, a definite decision to reset the future purpose is always made from three possible options available:
We can give up and quit because things are hard or look hopeless.
We can keep things the same and ride out the season of life, just going through the motions while dying on the inside.
We can change the relationship for the better.
Give up. Stay the same. Change for the better. What will you do?
Limitless love is always an option on the table when the wheels fall off. You can pause the soap opera. Be a difference maker.
It is time for you to get back in the race.
Faith. Hope. Love.
God lives inside of you to lead you to other hopeless persons He intends to love first and love most through you.
I recently came across a Reddit blog on the subject: Phrases men hate hearing from women. Apparently, it touched a nerve as well as the funny bone. The comments were as hilarious as they were diverse. Many responses from the readers became rants…from both men and women.
I suspect these phrases transcend all linguistic, cultural, national, and geographical distinctions.
I decided to list my version of the Top Twenty hated phrases I heard a woman say somewhere.
Suggestion: Turn this into an interactive game. There are three parts to the game. Here are the rules and scorekeeping. (I listed some rules because I know some women who insist on reading the rules first even if it is a game of checkers. I know some guys who make up their own rules during the game and I know persons from both sexes who cheat on the score.)
Part One NAME the PHRASES men hate hearing from women“from my personal Top Twenty list. No peeking. (1 point for each correct guess.)
Part Two SUGGEST the SCENARIO which might have caused the need for each PHRASE. (1 point for a good answer. 2 points for a situation in which you have said or heard the phrase. 3 points for creativity of a possible scenario where the phrase might be used in a mystery novel, Hallmark Christmas movie, or History Channel documentary.)
Part Three DESCRIBE the MAN’S UNSPOKEN THOUGHTS when he hears the hated phrase: (1 Point for a good answer. 3 points if your answer causes a smile. 5 points for an answer you think would go viral on the internet.)
Note: Scoring is on the Honor System like the game of Golf. You may also opt to play my personal version of Grace Golf which allows adjustments to your score via gimmee putts, close enough shots, mulligans, foot wedge out of sand traps, hit any ball found in the woods, kick back in bounds (maximum twenty yards), and “I’m going to act like you did not see that.”
This game is for entertainment purposes only. The game creator is not liable for any laughter or arguments.
When I heard the subject, What Men Hate to Hear Women Say, this is what came to my mind in the first eighty seconds, listed in no particular order.
PHRASE 1:We need to talk. (If this is on your list, 1 point)
Part Two Share a Scenario for “we need to talk.”
(Examples): *Husband walks into the house from work (1 point). *Woman just concludes phone call with her mother (2 points). *Woman reaches for the TV remote and turns off the ballgame of man’s favorite team (3 points).
Part Three Describe the Man’s Unspoken Anxious Thoughts when he hears “we need to talk.”
(Examples): *I should have gone to the bathroom earlier (1 point). *This is not going to end well (3 points). * Oh no, I did something wrong (5 points). *Can we wait until this show is over? (minus 2 points)
PHRASE 2: I don’t care. (If this is on your list, 1 point)
Part Two Share a Scenario for “I don’t care.”
(Examples): *Husband asked, “Where do you want to eat?” (1 point). *Man says, “I don’t feel good.” (2 points). *Man states he is thinking about leaving the relationship (3 points).
Part Three Describe the Man’s Unspoken Thoughts when he hears “I don’t care.”
(Examples): *I guess she does not care, so we will go to my favorite restaurant (Rookie blunder, minus 2 points). *I will just keep namingmore diners and dives until she prefers one (Stupid mistake, 1 point). *This is a trap. Do not take the bait. (Veteran reaction, 5 points).
PHRASE 3: I said, I’m fine. (Continue to share answers and assign self-scoring points for Parts Two & Three of each correct Phrase.)
PHRASE 4:That is not going to happen. Maybe, never again.
PHRASE 5:Guess who is coming to dinner tonight. (Negative points for hurting your opponent’s feelings with answers for Parts Two and Three.)
PHRASE 6: I am not very hungry so I will just share some of what you order.
PHRASE 7:Is that all you think about?
PHRASE 8: You NEVER listen.
PHRASE 9:Never mind, I will just do it myself.
PHRASE 10: I’m not in the mood. You do not want to know what mood I am in. And for the record, I’ll tell you IF I am ever in that mood again. (Double Points)
PHRASE 11:Do you know what we need to do?
PHRASE 12: You are not going to like this, but…
PHRASE 13: What did you say? (She heard you but is giving you a chance to change your mind and your attitude.)
PHRASE 14: Now, what is that look for? (Time is up for changing your attitude. No points.)
PHRASE 15: Why? (Any variation of the question counts, such as: Why did you buy this? Why did you go this direction? Why didn’t you ask first?)
PHRASE 16: Is that really what you are wearing tonight?
PHRASE 17: Well, that was very disappointing.
PHRASE 18: None of this would have happened if you had listened to me. (Triple points)
PHRASE 19: Are you writing that in your post? If you are, that might be the last thing you do.
Cold Turkey is a colloquial phrase used most often to describe the sudden and total stoppage of some activity or habit.
The term is usually associated with the abrupt cessation of taking a drug to which one is addicted or complete withdrawal of substance abuse. The resulting sudden behavioral change, rather than a gradual cessation of some habit, often causes unpleasant experiences.
People try to go “cold turkey” from smoking, alcohol, drugs, dating, social media, soft drinks, sweet desserts, or television.Sometimes it involves the cessation of a favorite activity or unhealthy relationship.
The term might have originated from the goosebumps people sometimes get in the days after they quit a bad health habit, causing them to look like the skin of a “cold turkey” in the fridge.
I am more familiar with the cold turkey sandwich served straight from the fridge rather than heated in the oven. (forced smile)
I had a serious addiction to club sandwiches, but I quit cold turkey. Now I only eat BLT’s. (drum roll rimshot)
It could also be a reference to the temperature conditions of a middle eastern country, such as “Istanbul is experiencing a cold Turkey winter.” (groans)
My research points to the cold turkey phrase evolving from the idiom “talk turkey,” a reference to plain and direct conversation. Lay out the facts and get down to the truth of the matter.
Why cold and why turkey and what do they have to do with suddenly and completely ceasing to do something?
The meaning associated with the idiom is similar to other expressions which have no connection to what they sound like they would mean, such as “letting the cat out of the bag” or “dog days of summer” or “break a leg” or “beating around the bush’ or “give someone a cold shoulder.”
Well. Let me “shake a leg” and “spill the beans” on my most memorable experience with going cold turkey.
Years ago, I wanted to lose some weight. The primary nemesis was my enjoyment of cokes and chocolate donuts, especially as driving companions and late-night snacks. I decided to go cold turkey.
No gradual change. No weaning away. No diet drinks. No substitute sweets. Cold Turkey.
The success was directly connected to my determination. I do not recall getting goosebumps, the shakes, or dry sweats. I did miss the sheer enjoyment.
Water and fruit became the go-to snack. Several months lessened any desire to return to those savory delights. The change was becoming deeply imbedded into my routine…until.
Until the time I did a Bible conference in Altus, Oklahoma. Their pastor was a true hero of preaching. I was humbled to be asked to return for a second conference. The Sunday morning service was packed. The response was encouraging.
There was good attendance for the Sunday evening session as I preached about the life and love of Jesus. At the conclusion, two young college-aged guys approached me with a question. They introduced themselves as actors with the parts of Jesus the Savior and God the Final Judge in the church-sponsored “Haunted House” promotion set up across the street for the rest of the week.
The inquisitive young man asked, “Were you saying the Bible teaches that Jesus Christ is God?” I replied, “Definitely.”
He shook his head and then lightly popped himself on the jaw as he blurted out, “I did not know that.”
Then he smiled broadly and loudly declared to his buddy, ‘Hey, you are God, and I am God. We are both God! That is so cool!” Then they high fived and hugged one another.
I was a little taken aback that the young men did not understand the basics of their character roles of God the Father and the divine Jesus who said, “If you know me, you know my Father; from now on, you know Him through me and you see him in me” (John 14:7).
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…The Word became flesh and blood to live among us, and we saw his glory as the Son was the same glory of the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:1, 14).
I was happy for their God-given revelation of Jesus’ identity as “Immanuel, God with us.”
That was not the deal breaker for my cold turkey reversal. That would happen the following night.
The Monday night Bible study attendance was very sparse. I feared that my teaching had been boring and ineffective. The pastor sought to encourage me by informing me that almost two hundred of their members were involved in the Haunted House evangelistic extravaganza about to begin.
Bible study or Haunted House? The #1 Textbook claims to be the sole power to save a soul and transform lives. The Haunted House promises to be a “sure-fire-attention-getter” and maybe even a “scare your pants off” experience. (Those idioms also have no connection to what they sound like they mean.)
Participation in Bible teaching or Haunted House scare tactics is a matter of preference. I do not condemn those who chose the latter. Their intentions were good.I did privately question the wisdom of simultaneously scheduling the events.
What shook my soul all the way to its cold turkey inner chamber was what I saw as I left the church that night. The long line of people outside the Haunted House wrapped around five blocks. I would have talked to more people that night if I had been a ghost.
The sight of the large crowds across the street hurt my pridemore than my spiritual discernment.
I stopped at the nearby convenience store on my way back to the hotel. I bought a two-liter bottle of Coke and a box of chocolate donuts. I turned on the second half of Monday Night Football. I went into some trance as I emptied both the bottle and the box before midnight.
Relapse could not begin to describe what I did that night.
I am thankful I was not a recovering alcoholic, gambler, or former druggie. I certainly identify with their struggles. I would have been a no-show for the next day’s Bible study. Somehow, I made it to the senior citizen luncheon with some dried chocolate on my cheek.
Most of the overheard energetic conversations centered around the costumes and scary experiences designed to “scare the holy h-e-double-hockey-sticks” out of its participants!
Since that time, I have gone cold turkey on haunted houses.
Do you have anything in your life which would be better if you stopped it cold turkey?
I have a truck load of wrongs which need some cold turkey resolve. Impatience, anger, bitterness, irritation, SELF-CENTEREDNESS.Sadly, I have lifelong struggles of cold turkey resolutions and relapse moments.
The #1 Textbook describes this journey to love first and most as a continuous struggle to “put off” the wrong stuff and “put on” the life and love of Jesus (Ephesians 4:20-32).
Jesus lives inside of us to lead us to others He intends to love through us.
Life is not about what other people do or do not do, say or do not say. It is about each one of us pressing on to love God and others at ever higher levels.
ALL OF LIFE IS A STEWARDSHIP.
I encourage you to talk turkey with God. ‘Shake off some cobwebs” on the spiritually unhealthy habits. Take some “baby steps” to be better this week.
Love first, love most, and “do the locomotion with me.”
Everybody’s doing a brand new dance now (Love first, love most) I know you’ll get to like it if you give it a chance now (Come on, baby, do the loco-motion with me)
–The Locomotion, sung by Little Eva, written by Carole King
LOVE FIRST...LOVE MOST 